


No Ordinary Love

by Gouryellan



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, ItsAlwaysSunny
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Behavior, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gay Male Character, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-08-14 03:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gouryellan/pseuds/Gouryellan
Summary: “So...what are we...doing here what’s your plan”“How the fuck do I know. I assume we just take our clothes off and see what fits together does that work for you?”





	1. S(he) Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Mac/Dennis ISAIP fic, and most of this is being written unedited. Please go easy on me.

Dennis can feel her. He can smell her strawberry scented shampoo, and the feeling of her fingernails as they trace patterns around his inner thighs.

This girl. Was. A pro.

“Ohhhh, baby”, he groans leaning back onto the couch as she takes the length of him into her mouth. “Fuck yeah you do that so good.”

Dennis’ Eyes are pressed closed as he begins to feel the warm wave of pleasure bringing him to the surface. Swiveling his hips in small circular motions, he knows he won’t be able to stave off an orgasm for much longer. Dennis reaches forward to pull his mistress up into a kiss. Grasping onto firm, well muscled shoulders, he squints his eyes open and the image shifts into focus.

“What the fuck, Mac!?”

“You taste so good baby...” he says, a wicked grin splayed across his face.

Dennis’ body jerks violently as he awakes. There is an aching stiffness rising in his neck from the angle he had been lying in.

“You awake, bro?” The voice is familiar. It belongs to Mac. What the hell was going on. Dennis swipes a trail of drool off his chin with the back of his wrist. The bright light of the tv is harsh on his eyes.

“What the fuck”, croaks Dennis, arching his back, trying to figure out where he is. He blinks a few more times, bleary eyed as he realizes he had fallen asleep sitting on the couch. Mac is on the floor facing the tv, head propped up against a pillow.

“You good dude?” Mac asks craning his neck to look at Dennis. “You sounded like you were possessed. Moaning and crying and shit.” He laughs, raising his eyebrows and returning his focus back to the TV.

Dennis makes an inaudible gargle as he presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and yawns. He needs to go to bed. He considers grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge to alleviate the impending hangover, but he cannot gather the effort. Retreating into his room without another word, he throws the door closed. It bounces noisily against the frame and creaks open a few inches. He is too tired to fix it.

He drops heavily into bed with a sigh and closes his eyes. Immediately he is met with images of Mac’s hands on his thighs. His mouth his tongue, the way he made Dennis writhe with pleasure.

No no no no no oh god damnit. GOD DAMNIT.


	2. Morning Would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I think this will be a slow burn :)

Dennis isstartled awake by the sound of a car alarm echoing down the city street.

Ugh. morning.

He lazily feels around for his phone, only to realize he’d probably left it out in the living room. Propping himself up on his elbows he looks over at the digital alarm clock that hasn't been properly used in years. 9:46 AM.

He emerges from the bedroom cloaked in his blanket, dramatically dragging it with him to the couch. Mac is in the kitchen eating cereal. He looks sweaty, like he’d already been to the gym or spent the better part of his morning on his lewd exercise bike. “Morning princess,” Mac says, eyes on his phone.

“Morning,” Dennis returns, with a yawn as he scoops up his phone and sits on the couch, placing a pillow over the persisting remnants of his morning erection.Keeping his head downturned, he glances up at his roommate who is absentmindedly tapping his footwhile he stares at his phone and shovels large bites of cereal into his mouth. _Unsightly_, Dennis reassures himself, shaking his head.“Lay off the pre-workout, Jesus Christ”

“Hmm?” Mac looks up at Dennis, surprised and mildly abashed.

“I could do without the tap dance routine”, he answers gesturing at Mac whose embarrassment has softened into a coy smile.

“Oh, sorry buddy!” Mac pushes the chair out and stands, carrying his cereal bowl to the sink and rinsing the milk out.Dennis realizes that everything Mac is doing this morning is setting him on edge. The sweat stain he left on the chair, the way he haphazardly spoons cereal into his mouth, his unreasonably even temper first thing in the morning. His—

“I’m gonna head to the bar early this morning”, Mac retorts interrupting Dennis’ bitter inner monologue. “Charlie needs me to help him with some shit his mom found in storage later, so I’m gonna get in the shower.Need to use the bathroom before I get in?”

Dennis shakes his head in response, as he hears Mac’s footsteps retreat down the hall and into the bathroom. Dennis sits on the couch a while longer. He hears the shower nozzles squeak in protest as Mac opens the tap. He hears Mac’s obnoxious Spotify playlist blaring through the closed door. He considers just for just a moment how much Mac would protest helping him out with his nagging erection. How it would take probably no effort at all. How Mac’s fascination with him bordeed on worship — and who didn’t enjoy being worshipped?

“I need a goddamn date”, Dennis says out loud, finally. As he unlocks his phone and opens tinder.


	3. Timing is Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unedited but I want to get it out. AH. I love MacDennis. :)

After hours of swiping right, and no returned matches, Dennis decides that Tinder (and online dating as a whole) is beneath him. Besides, a brief online profile about likes, dislikes, and personality quirks is hardly effective in demonstrating his true value, his essence. His Dennis-ness.

“Tinder is for basic peons. Street trash”, he protests aloud, locking his phone, and placing it loudly face down on the bar top.

“What’s all this now?”, Dee inquires, leaning forward on her barstool.

“I mean, in all honesty when did it get so dumbed down? What happened to the art of seduction? These days, all you need is a phone and a thumb. It’s absolute nonsense.”

Dee scoffs in agreement. “I know, bro. I’m not even on Tinder and I—”

“Eh, stop talking, Dee,” Dennis interrupts, holding his hand up, in an effort to emphasize his point. “I’m not listening and I don’t have the patience to feign interest right now.”

Dee rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, not actually offended, but after 40 years of constant emotional abuse from her whole circle, needs to keep up appearances. “Whatever, lamedick”, she says, before taking a swig of her beer. “Where did Charlie and Mac go?”

The name is enough to make his stomach do a somersault. Dennis hates how the first 24 hours after a dream make things feel disorienting. Hates how a dream can make you angry with someone for no reason, or miss someone or yearn for...or drive you crazy. He needa to stop picturing his stupid gay roommate blowing him, because it was never going to happen. For so many reasons, it was absolutely not going to happen. It was a dumb stupid idea, and damnit, it needed to be tomorrow already so he could finally get some separation from these vivid images, sensations, and thoughts.

“I dunno, something at the old lady house, I wasn’t paying attention”, Dennis finally responds, before whipping his empty beer bottle into the trash. It ricochets off the edge and splinters on the floor.

“Smooth”, remarks Dee.

Dennis doesn’t answer. He has already slipped back into a place of amorphous hands and mouths and stifled moans and taboo pleasure.

Many many beers later, Dennis parks his Range Rover outside his apartment. He had hastily closed the bar a few hours early after an unsuccessful conversation with a potential Tinder hookup that had wasted his time and led him on, deciding to ‘stay in because she had an early morning’. _Whatever, her loss,_ he reassures himself.

He hopes that Mac is still out with Charlie, because he’s angry and needs to get the poison out of his system. Masturbation is more of a means to an end at this point, but if he was being honest, so is sex. Faceless, nameless, emotionless means to an end. By the time Dennis gets to the door of his apartment, he can hear Mac’s music, and knows that he would need to retreat to his bedroom to get off.

When he opens the door, Mac is sprawled out on the floor, legs in front of him in a V shape. He is hunched over a mess of wires, plastic, and cartridges. His hair is unkempt and a few strands are falling loosely over his forehead. “Eyooo”, he greets Dennis, his smile twisting to one side of his face. “SUPER NINTENDO BRO”, he says proudly, as if Dennis had asked him what he was fiddling with. He hadn’t.

“Oh, cool”, Dennis replies, quirking an eyebrow.

“It will be. If I can get it working. I think there are a few more boxes at mom’s house, cuz there are definitely some wires and games missing. But Charlie and I are gonna head back over there in a few and do another sweep.” Mac grins,eyes crinkling at the corners, obviously pleased with his task. Dennis doesn’t want to tell him that their flatscreen probably doesn’t support the system. He would let him figure that out.

Dennis shuts the door to his room, and tosses his keys on his dresser. He considers pulling out one of his tapes to massage himself to, but realizes that this just needs to be a calculated transaction. His videos admittedly took too long, and he needs to come without complication. If only he could drown out the sounds of Mac’s 80s rock, and his off pitch singing.

“Jesus FUCK”, Dennis mouths, irritated. It had been 20 minutes, and all Dennishad achieved was a thick patina of sweat on his forehead. He hadn’t come, and in all honesty, he wasn’t even sure if he was capable at this point. The beer and the lack of sleep, and the goddamn singing was just all working against him. He stands, defeated, pulling up his basketball shorts, and adjusting his painful erection (and blue balls) in the waistband of his briefs. Everything inside of him is telling him to sleep it off. Take another swig of his bedside bourbon, or perhaps a dry swallow a Xanax and press reset.

But Dennis isn’t listening.

He pulls his bedroom door open to return to the calamity that is his roommate. But Mac isn’tthere. Dennis is momentarily relieved, because at this point, he isn’teven sure what he’s doing. But then he hears the toilet flush. Without hesitation, Dennis stalks down the hall and stands at the entrance of the bathroom where Mac is washing gunk off his hands, unaware that Dennis is behind him, stalking him like prey. The dim light cast on Dennis’ face makes him look menacing.

“Jesus Christ, dude”, Mac yelps, startled, as he looks up, and sees Dennis’ reflection in the mirror. He stands there staring for a moment, speechless, before turning around to face his friend.

“You scared me. What are you—”, Mac starts to say. His breathing is uneven, due in part to the fact that he had genuinely been spooked by Dennis’ presence, but also because the air has gotten perceptively heavier. It’s one of those moments where you can feel something is about to happen. Mac is paralyzed with indecision, as he and Dennis look at each other in the dim light cast in from the living room. “You’re not gonna murder me are you?”, Mac asks jokingly, trying to make sense of the situation.

Dennis takes a looming step forward, backing Mac into the sink, causing the soap dispenser and other toiletries to rattle. “Shut up asshole, and just let me try something.” He places his own hands on to the cool porcelain, on either side of Mac, whose mouth is slightly agape. Mac glances up at his slightly taller friend, searching for a an indication that he is misreading the situation. “Up”, Dennis nods with his head, directing Mac to hop up onto the sink. Mac obeys without any further hesitation, and Dennis can see a hopeful, almost bashful smile on his face, not unlike the evening he walked in on Dennis’ late night striptease routine. “I just want to try something”, he repeats, as he furrows his brow, dishearteningly aware of what he’s about to do. He grips the edge of the sink and nudges Mac’s nose with his own before leaning in to press his lips gently against Mac’s.

_Fuck._

Mac immediately sighs into Dennis’ mouth, like this had been the one thing, the only thing he had ever needed in his life. Dennis cannot deny the thrill this gives him, knowing how malleable Mac is to his control. Mac likes to pretend that he’sthe boss, but Dennis knows better. He can get Mac to do anything he wants.

“Mmmmnn”, the sounds coming from Mac are primal, and undeniably sexy. He leans forward pulling Dennis into the kiss as they cautiously begin exploring each others’ mouths for the first time.

Mac isn’tsure how much time passes, before he reluctantly comes up for a breath. He shakes his head in disbelief, taking deliberate deep breaths, and pushing himself against the spigot, hands on Dennis’ shoulders.

“Do you uh”, Mac clears his throat, “mind filling me in on what it is you’re _trying_...so I can uh get on board?”

Dennis cocks his head slightly to the left and bites his lower lip, as he runs his hands up Mac’s thighs. “Seems like you’re already on board”, he gestures at the obvious erection, tenting in Mac’s canvas pants. Mac blushes and rolls his eyes.

“Alright, asshole”, Mac says, hopping off the sink, finally acknowledging what is happening. He isn’t sure what the catalyst was, or even if this is another dream, but he isn’tgoing to ask any more questions. He backs Dennis into the wall and presses his hips against him, as he closes his mouth around Dennis’ again, lacing their fingers together at their sides, and clenching them hard.

Dennis’ thoughts are an abstract mess of instinctual urges, numbed by the amount of alcohol he had consumed that evening. This feels suspiciously like scratching a patch of poison ivy that had been on fire. He can’t deny how good it feels, but he knows deep down that he might regret the decision to fulfill an urge in the morning. He likes the feeling of being pressed against the cool wall by the weight of Mac’s warm body. He reveled in the reality of how obviously aroused Mac was, and was delightfully surprised at how easy and fucking hot this all was.

“Ah, shit”, Mac jumps back suddenly, reaching for the front of his pants.

“God damnit, already dude?” Dennis complaints in disbelief. He knows how badly Mac had wanted him, but he thought he at least had enough self control to not finish in his pants from some kissing and grinding. Dennis realizes that this had been a mistake.

“Phone”, Mac grunts, as he pinched his forehead and stabs at the answer button with his thumb. “Yeah!”, he shouts into the phone, looking at Dennis who is already halfway out of the bathroom. “Yeah, I’ll be right down, dude.” Mac ends the call, and winces. He should not have taken that call.

When he gets to the living room, Dennis is on the couch, gulping down a glass of tap water, and adjusting the collar of his shirt. He looks up at Mac in offended disbelief.

Mac opens his mouth, silently trying to decide if he is making the right decision. “I have to fuckin meet Charlie, he’s outside.” He kneels one knee on the couch. “I’ll be an hour or two tops. Wait for me.”

Dennis scoffs and rolls his eyes, refusing to look his roommate directly in the eyes. The Golden God waits for no one. Mac presses his hands on either side of Dennis face, and pulls his gaze toward him; his eyes pleading. “Wait for me”, he repeats, before placing a chaste kiss on Dennis lips, immediately sending blood back below his belt.

Mac stalks out the front door without turning around to meet Dennis’ gaze again. He knows if he does, there is no way he is making it down to meet Charlie. As soon as the door shuts behind him, he thuds his back against the wall, and presses his mouth into a tight O shape, exhaling sharply. “_What, the fuck._”


	4. Set It and Forget It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gross dude. Just watch pornhub like the rest of society.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing? Never heard of her. This one is soft and a little emo. I promise someone will bang at some point, but no spoilers (LOL JUST READ THE TAGS ITS OBVI) I’ve turned my fitspo Tumblr into a shrine to IASIP and MacDen. No ragerrrrts. Leave me a comment I am very lonely.

“What was that about?” Mac asks himself rhetorically as he descends the stairs quicker than he intends to, unable to regroup entirely and shift his focus back to the task at hand. 

In all of the unexpected commotion, he forgets to grab a coat, and although it was still only early fall, the temperatures are already dropping to the low 50s at night in Philadelphia, and Mac is certainly going to be cold in only a thin cotton long sleeve t-shirt.

He jogs out to Charlie who is giving him a peculiar side-eyed, and markedly suspicious look.

“Ahh, dude”, Charlie grunts as he leans against a telephone pole behind him, “were you like in the middle of something?”

“What?” Mac chirps, turning bright red, unable to mask his embarrassment. “No, I mean—just Den—er uh porn. Dennis por—uh his sex tapes”, he finally confesses, immediately kicking himself. He could have said anything else. Internet porn. Wet dream. For god’s sake, sleeping!

Charlie rolls his eyes, pushing himself away from the pole. “Gross dude”, he remarks. “Just watch pornhub like the rest of society.”

Mac chortles, relieved that Charlie had bought his alibi, not that he is particularly astute, anyway. “I would, but I’ve literally broken every laptop I’ve touched and Dennis says I can’t use ours anymore until I get more better at avoiding viruses.”

Charlie shakes his head in disapproval, before nodding at the truth of that statement, seemingly unaware of Mac’s preoccupation with what was potentially unfolding upstairs. Mac swallows hard, and shakes the events of the night temporarily from his mind.

Ninety minutes later, Mac is back at the apartment, empty handed. Charlie had sworn there was another box with more “wires and shit” in the attic, but after turning everything upside down, all they had found were Christmas decorations, old photos (most of which containing Charlie and Uncle Jack), and an inordinate amount of ‘As Seen on TV’ products.

Mac fumbles with the keys, hands trembling, partially from the cold, he tells himself, but also due in large part to the fact that he did not know what he would be walking into. He’s hoping that he will open the door to lit scented candles, a decanted bottle of wine, and Dennis waiting for him in the bathtub. What he is afraid of finding is an empty apartment because Dennis had panicked and run away back to North Dakota, or perhaps somewhere even further away. 

He takes a deep purposeful breath and turns the key in the lock. The door creaks open, and the apartment is dark and still. Dennis is asleep on the couch, facing the muted TV; his face propped up by a closed fist. Mac’s face twists in both relief and disappointment when he realizes that he’s missed an opportunity. “Fuck”, he mouths silently, as he shuffles his feet into Dennis’ room to grab a blanket for him. When he emerges, he is half expecting Dennis to be awake, and glaring at him for fucking things up. Perhaps after 25 years of constant control and berating from his friend, Mac had just grown accustomed to it. But Dennis is still asleep. He looks partially peaceful and partially pained. Mac wants to stare at him for the rest of the night, just like this. It wouldn’t matter how tired he was in the morning, because it would be worth it, just to watch his friend rest. Mac would never admit this, but he believes Dennis to be most handsome person he’s ever known, and most of what he did (seemingly selfish or not) was for him. 

Mac considers pulling a chair along side his friend to fall asleep next to him, but he thinks it best not to do anything out of the ordinary. After all, despite recent events, Dennis’ words still echo in Mac’s ears from time to time, and much more often than he would like to admit. “_It’s never going to happen, alright? Not willingly.Your time’s up._” Mac grimaces at the memory, as he blinks quickly, willing it away. He places the blanket over Dennis’ body trailing his fingertips’ through his stray curls on his forehead. Dennis had been very drunk tonight, who knows if he’d regret having kissed Mac in the morning, or perhaps if he’d even remember it. Mac clicks his tongue, realizing he should probably head to bed before he unintentionally wakes Dennis, and slinks away to his room without turning around. His room feels colder than usual that night. 


	5. Missed Connections

Dennis lies there on the couch staring at the door for over an hour, stubbornly expecting Mac to change his mind and come back to finish what they had started. Mac was supposed to be a sure thing, a guarantee to relieve him of his blue balls. He hadn’t expected that Mac would ever back out, but he did — albeit for understandable reasons, but it happened, nonetheless. And it was irritating.

Dennis hears the keys jingling outside the apartment door, and knows he has to make a decision quickly. Glancing at the cable box, he sees that it’s nearing 2 AM, too late to make a great impression on anyone, even Mac. Dennis presses his eyes shut, and channels his best inner corpse. _You pussy_, he thinks to himself.

The door opens noisily, despite Mac's best effort to be cautious. Dennis hears Mac’s audible disappointment when he discovers him asleep on the couch. He hears Mac shuffle around the apartment, and feels the warm fleece blanket as Mac tentatively drapes it over his body. He feels Mac’s cool fingertips graze his forehead, as he brushes a few stray hairs from his face. His stomach lurches at his friend’s touch, and he contemplates opening his eyes, and making room for him on the couch. They could sit and watch a movie, or talk or kiss. But the time for that had passed now. Mac has made his decision. 

Dennis hears Mac sigh, as he skulks into his own bedroom and shuts the door, not bothering to turn on the light. He hears the springs squeak in protest when Mac flops onto his bed, most likely fully clothed and still wearing his shoes. No wonder his socks smelled so bad.Dennis doesn’t bother going to his own bedroom that night. He doesn’t want to risk having any more dreams about those lips, that tongue, or that stupid bashful (beautiful) grin that he definitely wants to crack with his fist. It was for his own good that he stay glued to that couch tonight, with the light from the TV penetrating his eyelids.

The next morning, when Mac wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to remember the events of the prior evening. _Holy shit,_ he thinks to himself. He licks his lips, and convinces himself he can still taste Dennis’ flavored lip balm. He exhales purposefully and braces himself before opening his bedroom door. Dennis is already up, Mac can tell by the scent of coffee and toast permeating the apartment. When he gets to the kitchen, he pours himself a glass of orange juice, and quietly scans the open apartment. Everything appears to be the same. Mac feels the same simultaneous pull of relief and disappointment in his gut. What on earth would be different, anyway? That is, aside from everything. Part of him wishes that there had be some shred of evidence of the night before. But there wasn't.

Moments later, Dennis emerges from the bathroom, hair wet, clad only in a robe. “That fuckin couch destroyed my neck”, he complains, rubbing fervently at it with his palm. “I guess that’s what I get for drinking a case of beer and passing out.” Dennis reclaims his seat the kitchen table and takes a long audible sip of his lukewarm coffee.

Mac is still standing at the kitchen sink, holding his orange juice, and looking down at Dennis curiously, eyebrows quirked. “Mmm”, he says in agreement. This bozo is going to act like nothing happened between them at all, isn't he. “So...”, Mac begins. “Turns out Mrs. Kelly didn’t have all the connections, after all. Or at least, we couldn’t find ‘em.”

Dennis doesn’tbother meeting his roommate’s eyeline from across the room. “Hmm?”, he asks, pulling his phone out of his robe pocket to check the ESPN app.

Mac clicks his tongue. “The SNES dude. Remember? How drunk—”, he begins to say, before he notices Dennis glaring up at him, seemingly challenging him to finish his line of inquiry.

“Right.” Dennis nods once, clearing his throat. “Yeah, buddy...about that.” Mac’s stomach flounders. “We uh don’t have a TV that supports a Super Nintendo gaming system, but uh, I’m sure you could bring it to Charlie and Frank’s and play it there.” Dennis grins insincerely. Before Mac can respond, he is getting up from his seat and walking to his room to get dressed.

_____________________________

The bar is mockingly slow that day. Mac makes it a point to set up his post at the front door to check ID’s, but the only patrons who bother to make an appearance are the usual barflies, none of whom even look a day under 70. Dennis wants to walk directly up to Mac and call him a coward to his face, but he can’t seem to muster the energy. He is in a game of chicken with Mac. They haven’t spoken about the prior evening, and he’ll be damned if he ends up being the first one to do it. If Mac was going to act oblivious, then so was he.

“You tryna make a genie come out of that bottle?” Frank’s tone is condescending.

Dennis furrows his brows and places the whiskey bottle in question, and rag down on the bar. “Come again?”, he asks.

“That BOTTLE”, Frank emphasizes. “You’ve been starin' at the door and wiping it for like fifteen minutes. If you’re trying to make a genie come outta there, then you’re doin’ it wrong!” Frank guffaws, painfully amused with his own joke.

Dennis grabs the rag with both hands and wrings it tightly in his grasp. “Shut up, old man, nobody likes you.”

Dee and Charlie laugh in unison from their respective stools. Dennis wonders momentarily if they are in fact, sleeping together again, since they’ve been bickering much more often than usual, but he doesn’t care enough to ask. Besides, it is all too obvious how codependent they all are on each other, without him having to point it out. If his little troll friend wanted to bang a large flightless bird for fun, then it was his prerogative. Dennis won’t stand in the way of their uh, “_happiness_”. The word amuses him, because he knows at its core, happiness is a myth, entirely debunked by the time one reaches the numbing mundanity of adulthood. Dennis picks up another liquor bottle, and resumes wiping it down meticulously, vaguely returning his gaze back to the front front door.

______________________________________

Mac can feel Dennis’ eyes on him, and he silently curses his downward sloping eyelids for this exact reason. He isn’t able to glance over without making it dreadfully apparent. He suddenly wonders why God would give him such a physical disadvantage, especially considering his profession. His cheeks flush red with emotion, and he contemplates making direct eye contact instead. What’s the big deal? He was a confident gay man who happened to open mouth kiss his his very straight, very sexy, very conniving roommate the night before.Mac raises his chin and turns his head toward the bar. Dennis’ focus is shifted toward the rest of the group. Thank god, Mac thinks. He needs a beer if he is going to work up the nerve to say something.

Mac hops off his perch, and pulls out a stool directly in front of Dennis, cocking his chin upward very deliberately. “Beer me”, he says with an impassioned smirk.

“You got it buddy”, Dennis complies, snapping his fingers, and sliding an ice cold Coors Light bottle directly into Mac’s open hand, before turning back to Dee, Charlie and Frank. “There’s just no way”, he scolds.

“No way, what”, questions Mac, turning his stool to face the rest of the gang, looking back and forth between Dennis and the others.

“Dennis doesn’t think I can count cards in a casino and win like a bajillion dollars”, Charlie, replies, almost sing-songy.

“Charlie you can’t COUNT, period”, adds Dee. “What makes you think you can keep track of cards and suits and numbers and hands and probability?”

Charlie pauses for a second, pondering the question. “Cuz I’m good...with like shapes, and shit. I bet I could do it.”

Dennis shakes his head. “You just used the term bajillions, a quantity that doesn’t even exist. But sure. Go, count your cards. Enjoy losing all the money you don’t have from your minimum wage janitorial job.” He sneaks a quick glance at Mac whose brows are furrowed, looking skeptically at Charlie while he traces his fingers along the length of his Coors label.

“Frank will bankroll me won’tcha Frank?”, Charlie suggests, grinning.

“Helllllll, NO.” Frank replies, mouth full of popcorn and peanuts.

“Ahhh, come on MAN, you guys are always pissing on my hopes and dreams.”

“Charlie you didn’t even know what card counting was an hour ago”, Dee reassures him, placing a hand on his arm. “I don’t think that qualifies as a hope or a dream.”

Charlie groans refusing to admit defeat. He flicks Dee’s fingers off his forearm. “I guess that’s fair. But I’m still gonna do it.”

The rest of the gang simultaneously throw their arms up in protest, as if it had been a choreographed move at this point. There is no arguing with Charlie once his mind has been made up. He just didn't understand basic logic. 

Dennis checks the time on his phone. 4:34 PM. It was going to be a long night. 


End file.
